


guillotine

by pinklesbian



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: I dont know., Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Unrequited Crush, rated t for language ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklesbian/pseuds/pinklesbian
Summary: sometimes having a computer in your brain leads you to make bad decisions & hurt people :-/





	guillotine

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i haven't written anything in like 75 years so i'm sorry if this isn't very good! also i just recently got into BMC and i have a LOT of very strong feelings about rich goranski and if i was a better writer i would post about a million fics detailing all my feelings, but for now i just had to put that out there. i love him? also since im new here someone please tell me why rich/michael is called expensive headphones??? anyway lmk if i made any typos or grammar mistakes or anything. also the title has like nothing to do with the fic lmfao

“Why can’t I keep hanging out with Michael? Can’t you help me make him cool too?” 

“Absolutely not.”

Jeremy throws his arms into the air, looking at the image of his Squip with exasperation. “How come?!”

“People will start to notice the way he looks at you. It would be bad for your image.”

Jeremy furrows his brow in confusion. “What do you m—“

On the desk behind him, his cellphone starts to buzz. He spins around in his chair and checks it; he’s greeted with an alarm cleverly titled “YOU’RE FUCKING LATE.”

His eyes widen and he swears, jumping out of his desk chair and grabbing his backpack off the floor. 

“Why didn’t you warn me?” he thinks angrily at the Squip as he's running out the door. 

“You could text Brooke and ask her to pick you up,” the supercomputer drawls, sidestepping the question. 

“Ugh,” Jeremy says, out loud. He ignores the Squip for the rest of the time it takes him to walk to school. The bell signaling the start of first period rings as he gets to his locker, and he mutters curses under his breath. He passes one or two other students in the hall as he walks to class, and they give him confused glances. 

His Squip reappears by his side. “Calm down. And stop talking to yourself.” Jeremy huffs in annoyance, but he does stop his muttering. 

He finally arrives at his precalculus classroom, and he sighs as he reaches for the door handle. “Say what I tell you to,” the Squip chimes in, and Jeremy nods. 

He steps through the door and everyone turns to look at him. His teacher sets down the book she was holding.

“Ah, Mr. Heere. Nice of you to join us.”

_ “Sorry I’m late.” _

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

_ “A transfer student was lost in the halls,” _

“A transfer student was lost in the hallway,”

_ “and I was showing them where the nurse’s office was.” _

“and I was showing them where the nurse’s office was.”

The teacher looks him over, and evidently determines that he’s telling the truth. “Well, take your seat now,” she says. She picks her book back up and continues reading from it, “So for problem 13, you needed to use the half angle rules…” 

Jeremy tunes her out as he slides into his desk, knowing he doesn’t need to learn this stuff anymore. He lets his eyes wander around the room until they settle on a familiar red sweatshirt. 

"What did you mean earlier?” he thinks, frowning. 

“I meant that I know how things work in this school, and I know that you will never be one of the popular kids if people find out about him.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you don’t. Say pi over two.” 

Jeremy glances to the front of the room, where his teacher is looking at him expectantly. 

“Pi over two,” he repeats, and she nods and goes back to writing some formula or another. Jeremy doesn’t try talking to the Squip anymore, instead just focusing on the way the marker squeaks against the whiteboard.

* * *

 

Jeremy sits next to Rich during lunch, who laments the fact that he’s seated in between Jeremy and Jake ( _“you’re both like seven feet tall”_ ) quite loudly and quite often. Somehow the topic of conversation progresses to whether or not the moon landing was faked, which a few members of the party were very passionate about, and Jeremy allows his mind to wander as he pretends to pay attention. 

“What if Michael got his own Squip?” he thinks. The Squip materializes at the end of the lunch table and sighs.

“It is highly improbable that he will agree to that.” 

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about this, Jeremy. You got a Squip and _instantaneously_ stopped talking to him, even after promising him you would not do that.” Jeremy frowns and looks down at his lunch tray, swirling his spoon around in his diced peaches. “There is no way he will want a Squip, and so there’s no way you can continue to be friends with him.”

“Remind me why, again?”

The Squip slams his hands down on the table, and Jeremy half expects trays to go flying, but of course nothing happens. “If the people you’re sitting with right now found out that Michael Mell is in love with you, you would be ridiculed for the next two years. Probably longer.” 

Jeremy sits up with a jolt. “What are you talking about?” he says.

Some of the conversation around him quiets as people turn to stare at him. The Squip shakes his head in disapproval.  Jeremy blinks and glances around. 

Rich saves him by nudging him with his elbow and laughing. “Didn’t know you were so passionate about aliens on mars, J-dog.” 

“Hey, I thought I was J-dog,” Jake protests from Rich’s right. 

Jeremy shakes his head. “Uh, never mind.” A few people look at him with raised eyebrows but go back to what they were talking about before.

Jeremy gives up on eating and excuses himself from the table. He feels Brooke’s eyes on him as he stands and leaves, but doesn’t look at her. 

Once he’s out of the cafeteria, he starts to wander the halls. “Are you crazy? What are you talking about?” he thinks, glaring at the Squip. 

“Obviously I’m not crazy, Jeremy. I’m a computer.”

“Well, you clearly computed something wrong. Michael is _not_ in love with me. We’re just friends.” 

“First of all, you’re not friends anymore, but yes, you were ‘just friends,’” the Squip says, making air quotes. “Just because he didn’t tell you doesn’t mean it’s not true. I can understand this, and I have no emotions, _Jeremy_. You really do need my help.” 

“Uh, okay, prove it.” 

The Squip stares at him for a moment. Jeremy stares back. Then the Squip sighs. "Fine.”

Images flood Jeremy’s mind so fast that it’s disorienting. He stumbles until he’s leaning against some lockers. Hundreds pictures and sounds seem to overlap in his head, but they’re nothing new. Of course, these are all Jeremy’s memories of Michael. Every now and then, a specific memory is plucked out and the Squip adds some commentary.

 

_“You know that you’re my favorite person.”_

_“Aw, is that true? I'm youw favowite pewson?”_

 

“Here,” the Squip says, “You can see Michael’s face flush.  He’s clearly using humor to disguise his actual feelings, and to avoid saying something too revealing.”

 

It continues like this for some time, with the Squip pointing out specific moments when Michael’s pining became too obvious. Glances, touches, smiles, and frowns that Jeremy never noticed. The final memory shown is from just a few days ago.

 

_“Michael? Oh my god, I’m so glad to see you!”_

_“Really. So you haven’t been avoiding me all day.”_

 

Jeremy’s vision clears and he stands in silence for a few minutes. 

 

“You seem to be feeling guilty,” the Squip notes casually. 

“Of course I am.”

“Well, don’t. Michael is the only thing holding you back from getting what you want. You don’t reciprocate his feelings and you never will. Just let him go. You will _both_ be happier.” 

Just then, the bell rings. Students start to file into the hallway. Jeremy swallows. 

“Okay. You’re right.”

“Excellent. I’ll turn on optic nerve blocking.”

* * *

 

“I didn’t know you were invited to this party.”

Michael frowns. “I wasn’t,” he says, like it should be obvious. Which it should, really.

They sit in silence for a few moments, staring at each other awkwardly. _Party in the USA_ plays in the other room.

“You’re quiet. Squip got your tongue?”

“No. It’s off.”

“That would explain why you’re talking to me.” He glares. “I’ve been thinking about  this moment… What I would say to you? I had this really pissed off monologue,  an epic journey through twelve years of friendship…” He realizes Jeremy is giving him a pained look. “What?”

“There’s a reason, you know. Why I haven’t been talking to you.”

“Oh? Care to explain?”

Jeremy pauses, choosing his words carefully. “My Squip thought it would be best, for both of us.” 

“That’s not an explanation.”

Jeremy huffs in annoyance. “God, what do you want from me? I’m trying not to hurt your feelings.” 

“Since when do you care about hurting my feelings?” Michael bites out.

“Jesus christ,” Jeremy mutters, and stands up. “Whatever. Never mind. Have fun in the bathroom by yourself.”

“Dude, just tell me.” Michael scrambles out of the bathtub to sit on the edge of it instead.

“Tell you what? Why we can’t be friends? You already know.”

“Uh, no, I don’t.”

“Yes you do! You fucking—“ he gestures vaguely with his hands. “You had to go and…”

“What? What did I do?” Michael reaches out to grab Jeremy by the wrist.

“Everything would have been fine if you didn’t go and get a crush on me!” 

Michael’s eyes go wide and he lets go of Jeremy immediately. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Yes you do. You’re gay, and you’re like, in love with me. That’s why we can’t be friends anymore, okay? Jesus.” 

He pushes past Michael and out of the bathroom. 

* * *

 

A lot happens in just a few weeks. A lot.

Jeremy is in the hospital now, beside Rich. He’s remembering everything that happened at the play.

_Michael_ … after everything Jeremy did, Michael still cleaned up his mess.

 

“Your Squip’s gone? How?” 

“Ask your buddy. Anti-social headphones kid? He’s been by, like, a ton, by the way.” 

Jeremy smiles, leaning his head back. Cool. Michael doesn't hate him. Rich keeps talking.

“What is he, your… boyfriend?” 

The smile falls from Jeremy’s face as he turns to look at Rich. Before he can respond, Rich gets defensive. “No judgment! Just curious. I’m totally bi now.” 

“No,” Jeremy says. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Awesome,” says Rich, grinning, and then he suddenly looks embarrassed to have said it out loud. “I mean, uh, just because, you know—“

Right then, the door opens and Michael is there. Rich shuts his mouth and looks away. Jeremy narrows his eyes at him, then looks at Michael.

“Hey dude. Rich is bisexual now.” 

Michael raises an eyebrow as Rich turns his head so fast it hurts to  _look_ at and glares at Jeremy. 

“I’m sure some special someone will be lucky to have you, Rich.”

The embarrassed look from before returns and Rich is clearly blushing now. “You think?” he mumbles. He looks away again to stare out of the window, which is as close to leaving the room as he can manage in his state.

 

Michael and Jeremy catch up. Jeremy apologizes about six hundred times. Michael forgives him, somehow. 

(O _f course he does,_ says a voice in the back of Jeremy’s mind. _H_ _e’s in love with you.)_

Tears are shed. Hugs are shared. Promises to never do something that stupid again are made.

 

Things seem to be getting back to normal.

* * *

 

Jeremy asks Christine to be his prom date. She says yes.

He runs to find Michael to tell him the good news, and he does find him. His best friend is very flustered and laughing nervously as Rich hands him a single rose. Jeremy can’t hear what they’re saying, but he’s got a guess.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i wrote the word squip 800 million times


End file.
